Friday the Thirteenth
by MayzyGreen
Summary: Please note that there will be no serial killings in this story... more's the pity. JxS COMPLETE


Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Author's Note: This is an example of Danika on not enough sleep and too many gummi bears. Too many being 7. Or maybe 8, I lost track. But most of those were green and they practically count double. And yes. It's a day late. Go whine to your mother. Or better yet, blame Marti. She failed to inspire me until it was too late.

Friday the Thirteenth

Sarah was sitting in her bedroom, innocently minding her own business and doing her Advanced Interstellar Quantum Physics homework. Everything in the room was exactly as it had been when she completed the Labyrinth. She had even changed her mind and stolen Lancelot back from Toby. The screaming little rat did not deserve _her_ bear, anyway.

A question about a metaphorical, metaphysical and possibly metaphrastical chicken stumped her and she tapped her lips gently with her pencil eraser, contemplating. (You think I made that word up, don't you? Well you're wrong! Go look it up. Do yourself a favor and get educated, Chump.) Just as inspiration was about to strike the young woman, an owl flew into her window.

Unfortunately, her window was closed at that particular moment. The owl made a sound that could only be described as a 'splata-cracka-thud' (marvel at my mastery of the English language) and dropped out of sight. Sarah dashed to her window, threw it open, and looked down. Lying in the grass was a very familiar, very dazed, barn owl.

With a muttered curse, Sarah tromped down the stairs to fetch the owl and carry it back up to the safety of her room. While it rested in her arms, she got the distinct impression that the owl was nuzzling her nubile, young flesh, but when she paused to look at it, the raptor appeared completely knocked out. Shrugging off her suspicions, Sarah deposited the owl, none to gently, on her bed and went back to her assignment.

A few minutes later, the bird came around and stood up on the bed, shaking its large head. There was a poof of rainbow sprinkles (because Jareth had gotten tired of glitter and these tasted better, to boot) and, instead of a mildly concussed bird of prey, a mildly concussed Goblin King sat on Sarah's bed. Rubbing his head with a wince, Jareth moaned, "Don't worry, the damage seems minor. I believe that I shall survive."

"That's good," Sarah replied, without looking up from her desk.

With a distinctly miffed expression, Jareth stood up from the flowery blankets. "Your concern for my welfare is overwhelming."

Sarah snorted. Jareth found this to be a rather vulgar and unladylike. His opinion was not raised in the least by the comment that followed after. "You expect me to feel sorry for you when you were stupid enough to fly into a window in the first place?"

"That was not my fault," he said, crossing his arms and trying to look indignant. Really, it came off as more of a pout, but he has a very pretty pout, so we will forgive him.

At last, Sarah raised her head to look at the Goblin King. A tiny, amused smile played around the corner of her mouth. "How was it not your fault?" she asked.

Jareth dropped the indignant look (pout) and leaned forwards menacingly. "Sarah," he intoned, drawing out her name needlessly, "Do you not know what day it is?"

Sarah chewed her lower lip and raised her eyes to the ceiling. A moment later, she met his gaze again and ventured, "Thursday?"

His oh-so-pointy eyebrows drew down. "No, you ninny!" he exclaimed, even though Jareth would never actually say 'ninny', that's just Danika being wacky again. "It is Friday the thirteenth! Do you _know_ what that means?"

The girl's eyes widened. "Yes!" she gasped. Jareth straightened up, the beginnings of a smirk coming to his lips. The pleased expression faded when Sarah continued, "It means my homework isn't due for three days! Why am I working on it _now?_" With a pleased expression of her own, Sarah dumped her heavy text book on the floor. It landed on Jareth's booted toe.

The Goblin King bounced around the room on one foot, glowering at Sarah and too annoyed to even call her a ninny again. (Please take a moment here to close your eyes and picture Jareth, bouncing around Sarah's room on one foot. A furiously red face. The hair. Heck, we'll even throw a cape on him. Now, save that image in your mind for a bad day. It is guaranteed to perk you right up.) Sarah had the decency to look embarrassed and mutter an apology.

Flopping onto her window seat and making a big show of rubbing his injured toe, Jareth growled, "This is exactly what I was talking about. Friday the thirteenth; the pinnacle of bad luck."

Sarah stared at Jareth a moment and then snorted again. This time, however, it was more a snort of laughter and he found it _slightly_ less repulsive than the last. Lowering herself to sit on the bed that Jareth had recently vacated, Sarah exclaimed, "You don't really believe that, do you? It's just an old superstition!"

Jareth snarled, "Shut yo' mouth, ho. You don't know nothin' about it!"

And then Sarah was all like, "Oh no you didn't!"

And then Jareth was all like, "Oh hells yes I did, an' I do it again you be gettin' in my face, woman!"

And then Sarah was all like, "Cracka please!"

And then Jareth was all like, "Why we talkin' all ghetto, yo?"

And then Sarah was all like, "I dunno."

And then Jareth was all like, "Well let's stop."

And then Sarah was all like, "Kay."

Jareth shook his head, feeling slightly queasy after that bit of intense out-of-characterness. One would think he would be used to it, as much as Danika abuses him, and yet that one had managed to catch him by surprise. Possibly because he had, to the best of his knowledge, never before used the word 'ho'. With any luck, he never would again.

"So... um..." Sarah stammered, trying to recollect her thoughts. She looked a bit green about the gills herself, even though she was a mammal and didn't have gills. "Er... Friday the thirteenth isn't really bad luck. So there." She tried to look confident, but did not really put her heart into it.

"Then how do you explain the fact that I flew into your window?" Jareth replied, getting to his feet.

"I already told you. Stupidity."

The Goblin King took a step forwards, a refute to her outrageous claim already forming on his lips. Unfortunately, he tripped over a stray armadillo and fell face first into wet cement, even though they were still in Sarah's bedroom. He glared up at her, a dollop of cement dripping off the end of his nose. She glanced at the perfect mask of his face, captured in the cement. (It was quick dry. Shut up.) and muttered, "That was just a coincidence."

While he was capable of conjuring a towel with one of his sparkly Magic 8 Balls (he had gotten tired of crystal balls and these foretold the future, to boot), Jareth decided that it was much more satisfying to wipe the muck off of his face with one of Sarah's curtains. As he did so, he said, "You know perfectly well that that was not a coincidence. Friday the thirteenth is nothing but ill fortune, waiting to pounce."

"So then I suppose that means you can't break a mirror or let a black cat cross your path, hmm?" Sarah demanded, raising her nose and looking both incredulous and snooty.

Jareth shivered. "You act so sure of yourself," he said, crossing his arms, "But I do not see _you_ passing under any ladders or opening any umbrellas in your house."

In lieu of an answer, Sarah marched over to her closet, extracted a pink umbrella with yellow polka dots and opened it. Jareth gasped and looked pale and slightly faint.

Nothing happened.

With a self-satisfied smirk, Sarah thrust the still-open umbrella into Jareth's hands.

Immediately, from the inside of the umbrella, a large amount of chocolate pudding rained down on the Goblin King's head, coating him and mixing with the remaining cement to form a surprisingly gelatinous goop, which sloshed about and squished in many unpleasant areas. Tentatively, the girl peeked inside the umbrella and murmured an impressed, "How the hell...?"

Sarah could really only see two mismatched, blue eyes, glaring daggers at her through a curtain of brownish glop. A shudder of fury ran through Jareth's body and he moved to close the umbrella. Unfortunately, before he had a chance, a flurry of dust bunnies (complete with little ears and wiggly noses) poured out of the umbrella to become adhered to the pudding-cement mixture.

It was at this point that Jareth began making a sound in the back of his throat that was somewhat reminiscent of a tea kettle just before it boils over. Sarah decided that this was not a good sign. Judging that the Goblin King was probably not the type to get his pretty hair dirty, and that he was about to start dripping on her nice, clean carpet, she quickly hustled him across the hall and into the bathroom. Heedless of the fact that he was still fully clothed, somewhere under all that sludge, Sarah shoved the still-squealing Jareth into her shower and turned on the water.

She was not certain whether it was a remnant of bad luck from the umbrella, or if it was just general Friday the thirteenth misfortune, but the water heater seemed to break down three or four times during Jareth's two and a half minute shower. The water alternately came down boiling hot or icy cold (and at one point actual hailstones poured out of the showerhead), but at least it washed the grime away.

Soon, Jareth was clean, shivering and sopping wet. Sarah dropped a towel on his head and quickly backed out to give him some privacy. From behind the bathroom door, she heard a number of loud bangs, underscored by a constant muttering, which was in turn punctuated by the occasional exclamation of, "Thirteen!", "Umbrella!" or "Wretched girl!"

At last, the alarming noises quieted and Jareth emerged from the bathroom looking cool and collected as ever. He had, it should be noted, donned a lovely, plaid kilt (he had gotten tired of jodhpurs and these provided a refreshing breeze, to boot). Sarah was a bit concerned with the fashion choice, but decided that this was not the time to comment. Instead, she hustled him back across the hall, to the relative safety of her bedroom.

"Ok," she said, as Jareth resumed his seat beside the window. "I guess I can accept that Friday the thirteenth really is bad luck- for you at least. But why are you _here_?"

He sighed, a much put-upon look on his face, except his eyes which darted about nervously as if seeking out where the _next_ attack of bizarrely bad luck would come from. "As you may have noticed, the misfortune is stronger for magical beings. I had hoped that it would not be as bad if I waited it out in the mortal realm. Obviously I was incorrect in that assumption."

Sarah nodded and silence reigned for a moment. The girl shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and the king jumped at small noises. At last, nervously chewing her lower lip, Sarah said, "The mortal realm is a big place. Why are you at _my_ house?"

Jareth cleared his throat and turned slightly pink. "More bad luck," he muttered.

Lowering her eyes, she replied, "Oh..."

Before her ellipses had even had time to run its course, a fat, purple duck flew through the window Sarah had left conveniently open. In a flurry of feathers, the bird landed on Jareth's head, promptly laid an egg, and fluttered back out the window. The egg remained snuggly in Jareth's admittedly rather nest-like hair. The Goblin King was not amused.

Turning a bit pink herself, Sarah reached out and gently plucked the egg from Jareth's hair. At a loss for what to do with the thing, she quickly rapped it against her desk and sucked the contents out of the ensuing hole. He stared at her in a sort of mute, fascinated horror.

Smacking her lips, Sarah tossed the eggshell out the window. She glanced over at the Goblin King, still twitching nervously in anticipation of what horror might come next. A wave of sympathy swept over her because Danika cannot seem to write anything without at least a hint of fluff and stuff. Plus, the authoress was getting bored and felt it was about time to wrap this pointless one-shot up.

"Jareth," Sarah said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder, "You can stay here if you want. You can even hide under the covers until the fourteenth, if you think it will help." She gave him an encouraging sort of grin.

Shooting a skeptical look at Sarah's ruffly bedspread, Jareth decided to indulge himself and attempted one of Sarah's derisive snorts. He found it not to his taste. Then a thought occurred to him and he glanced at the bed again. With the start of a wicked smile making its way onto his face, Jareth returned his gaze to Sarah. "And will you hide beneath the covers with me?" he asked, arching a brow. "To keep me safe, of course."

Sarah backed up a step, turning a becoming shade of magenta. "J-Jareth!" she stammered, "I'm only fifteen!"

The Goblin King blinked, looking somewhat bewildered. "No you're not," he replied, "It has been over six years since you defeated my Labyrinth."

Shaking her head, Sarah said, "No. My age wasn't established at the beginning of the story, so by default I'm automatically fifteen."

Jareth rolled his eyes, "That's idiotic. Fine!" He waved a hand and, somewhere, the hands spun on a large, ornate clock. Sarah felt a strange tingle and, when it had passed, discovered herself to be rather larger and more roundish in a few key areas. With a theatric sigh, Jareth tilted his head as he examined his handiwork. "Once again, I have moved the stars and reordered time for you, Sarah." The naughty twinkle returned to his eyes, "Will I receive a just reward?"

Sarah was somewhat taken aback, to say the least, at suddenly having aged half a decade, but, remembering that Danika wanted to wind up the story and that the longer she drew this out the worse the quality of the writing would become, she shrugged and replied, "Yeah, I guess so."

A moment later, there was a large, somewhat wiggly lump beneath the covers of Sarah's bed, from which suspicious giggling noises was issuing. After one particularly loud giggle, a feminine voice exclaimed, "Jareth! Is that you or did your bad luck manage to attract a live Gila Monster to my bed?!"

After a pause, another voice replied, "Both, it would seem."

"...Oh." More giggles and perhaps a little purr followed.

It was at this point that Jareth was supposed to say something along the lines of, "Perhaps this Friday the thirteenth was not so unlucky after all", but he missed his cue. His mouth was busy elsewhere.

Sarah, at least, forgave him.

xXx

Wow, I went all perverty at the end there. Blame Marti again, she's a bad influence.


End file.
